A Novel?

A Novel? 

She saw him making his way toward her.  He was dressed in that t-shirt and tight jeans she loved.  The shirt matched the color of his eyes and hugged his muscles.  He walked with such confidence.  It was obvious he knew who he was and where he was going in life.  And she was the lucky one.  He was all hers.

Oh my gosh.  Did I really just write that paragraph?  Let's rewrite it to fit everyday life.

She saw him making his way toward her.  He was dressed in yesterday's t-shirt that had paint spatters all over the front.  There was a big hole under the sleeve on the right side.  His jeans were baggy and out of style.  The shirt and his eyes were no where near the same color, and muscles?  Actually, he did walk with confidence.  However, it was obvious he had no clue where he had been or where he was going.  Sometimes he walked into a room and forgot why he was there.  She understood because she did that, too.  Yes, he was all hers.  And she was happy about that.

As you can tell, I could never write a novel.  But, it is fun to think about it.  Writing fiction must be so much fun.  The writer can make the characters do and say whatever they want.  They can mimic real life or live totally in a fantasy world.  What a great gift to be able to write stories.

That is not my style.  In fact, I have been wondering exactly what my style is.  Sometimes people ask me what my books are about.  My usual answer is they are about life experiences.  I observe life happening and then share what I have seen and heard.  Or I give my impression of what I have seen and heard.  Does that describe it?  I am not sure.

What I do know is life is full to overflowing with color and beauty.  Each experience I observe teaches me new lessons.  I store those lessons in my memory and use them to make life richer for others.  Works of fiction have the ability to teach, also.  When I was still in the classroom, I would tell my students that there were lessons to be learned in short stories.  We simply had to dig into the story to find the meaning that could be applied to everyday life.  They would often roll their eyes and grumble about having to read such stupid stories.  But, we did read them, and we did talk about them.

Each life is a story.  Each life has its own cast of characters, settings, conflicts, resolutions.  Each has colors--bright and dark.  The journey through life presents challenges that force us to reach deep within.  That is the beauty of it all.  We never cease to grow and learn.  We are constantly in motion either physically or emotionally.  Our story unfolds in bits and pieces.  Sometimes we like the way it is moving.  Other times we do not.

While we live in the real world, the world of fiction and fantasy allows us to escape for just a bit.  We can imagine that good-looking guy staring at us from across the room.  We can imagine being swept off our feet and onto the dance floor.  We can almost feel the excitement of having every eye in the room  glued to "us" as we dance across the floor.  Yes, it is good to live in that world for awhile.

And then we return to the real world.  We see that partner who holds our heart so carefully and lovingly.  We smile at the person who loves us even when we are so darn unlovable.  We have shared memories with that person.  We have made a life with that human.  No author can write about the love we know.  Words are not adequate.

Fiction is fun.  Real is better.